Tuesday, April 14, 2015

I have been painting again. It started with a “kind of” commissioned piece. For a woman I’ve never met, but who, through this amazing cyber universe we now inhabit, I feel like I have known for years. We have friends in common, and we will get to meet this summer, when she comes up from Florida to visit those friends. And I will get to give her this painting in person.

I love how it turned out. She chose the words, and the color, and the little butterfly, which is a symbol of someone she lost, and I was surprised at the feelings this painting evokes for me, so I hope that she is equally moved.

This connection to people through art is really an amazing thing. I am so grateful for the creative process and all that it brings with it.

It is finally here. Spring has truly become my new favorite season. I used to love fall best, but as it is the precursor to seemingly endless winters in the Northeast, all that spring has to do is show up, to become my new favorite. And while I am not fond of extreme heat, the summer is too fleeting for me to grow to despise.

I spent this past Sunday doing garden clean-up. The first day outside after a long winter is always the very best – even the inevitable blister between thumb and forefinger from raking too vigorously.

For one thing, a few hours of work yields such noticeable improvement. Outdoor furniture is dusted off and set up; the last fall leaves are bagged, revealing little green shoots and buds; sticks are bundled in neat little piles for pick-up; all of the ugliness of late winter is gone in one lovely, sunny afternoon.

For another thing, spring is all about the promise of potential fulfilled -- beauty and growth and abundance. The air smells fresh and the earth, loamy; birdsong fills the cool air -- robins chirp angrily at my presence as they use their instinctual artistry to turn sticks and mud and string and bits of paper into a perfect little round nest, hidden in a nearby tree.

The grass is still the color of straw, but just the absence of snow makes its crunch and rustle welcome beneath my feet.